Saturday, March 31, 2012

I called my sister last night to see how she was doing afterthe first chemo treatment (so far, so good) and she said ourUncle Kenny was there. He asked to talk to me and the firstthing he said was, "How ya doin', kiddo?" and instantly Iflashed back umpteen years and I could see his wonderfulsmile and the constant twinkle in his eyes. It also dawnedon me that I use that same greeting...because of him.That part of him is a part of me.

I asked him how he'd been and his response was"Oh, you know, for 82 not so bad. They can't keep agood Hunky down." We both laughed in agreement.I'm only half Hunky (Hungarian) from my mom's family,but it's strong in me. Hearing him reminded me of that.The next thing he said was "I'm glad to hear you'recoming home to help your sister. Your mom and dadwould be happy, too." That brought a lump to my throatbut it took until much later before I really figured out why.

Later that day, I had to run an errand and after Igot back in my car, I just sat there and thought ofUncle Kenny again and our conversation.

I've lived here almost 38 years and I've always saidthat it never felt like home, it was just someplace to live.Not home.

Right that second, it felt like something kicked mein the heart and the tears started to flow.Then, I heard myself say "I'm going home." Now I'msobbing and I keep saying "I'm going home."Over and over I repeat that, out loud.And I'm looking up as I continue to cry "I'm going home."

Friday, March 30, 2012

I've taken dozens of photos of the jasmineand this is the only one that was even closeto acceptable. I give up.

Dammit, Spark... stand still!

These plumbago aren't really mine.They're invading from the neighbor'sside of the fence and mix with thebougainvillea. I love the color.

One of the gazillion lizard/anoles thatSparky loves to chase.

His favorite hunting ground is under the rose bushes.***

My sister had a port put in her arm Thursday.Friday (today) at 9am she gets her first chemo treatment.Our 82 year old uncle (mom's youngest brother andthe last living member of her family) called her todayto tell her he will bring her dinner on Friday.Mom would be pleased, especially since he got outof the hospital recently after a heart problem.

The plan is, I'll be moving to Ohio in about a monthto stay with my sister and help take care of her.Lots to do to make that happen.My head is spinning but I think it's a good decision.

p.s. Am I rude or what? Forgot to sayTHANK YOUto everyone who offered prayers and good thoughtsfor my sister. Ya'll are the best of the best. ♥

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

A couple weeks before my blog was kidnapped, I'd beenhaving problems leaving comments at a few blogs.Pop-up comment format works fine. It's the embeddedcomment pages that often don't work for me. Sometimes.Before I have a chance to finish typing a comment, thepage goes white. Refresh does nothing. Clicking on'back page' brings back the comment page for a fewseconds, then goes white again.

Wordpress blogs are hit or miss.

So. If you don't hear from me as much or, lately, never,that's why. It sucks.

Sunday, March 11, 2012

I know I've mentionedbefore that my dad servedin the Navy on theUSS Randolph during WW2.

As is so common with veterans,he didn't share many detailsof his service with his family.He talked about learning to boxand getting his nose broken.He talked about making anattempt in track and breakinghis ankle in the long jump...or, was it pole vaulting?

The most serious thing he talkedabout for a long time was one ofhis mates who died from alcoholpoisoning after a day of drinkingin the hot sun.If he was asked where he served, he would only say"in the Pacific". He mentioned being in Hawaii andhaving no desire to go back. He enlisted after Pearl Harbor.

One day he showed us a scrapbook he made. The cover is apiece of scratched plexiglass with some brown stainsnear the edge. When I asked him what the stains were,he said, "Oh, that's blood from the Kamikaze pilotwho hit our ship." He wouldn't say anymore.

Not long ago, I read the book "Flyboys" byJames Bradley. It talks about US forces bombing atiny (three miles by five miles) island calledChichi Jima and eight pilots who crashed there, werecaptured, tortured and killed by the Japanese.This book mentions the USS Randolph as part of thesupport forces in the bombing raids on Chichi Jima.This is where dad's ship was when it was hit.

(click photo for book info.)

My dad's job on that ship was working on theflight deck. He helped handle the "rubber bands".Some sort of straps stretched across the deck thatthe pilots had to hook on with the plane's tail tokeep the plane from flying off the deck when landing.Twenty-five men were killed when that Kamikazehit the flight deck on March 11,1945.My dad was one of the lucky uninjured.

Putting out the fire after the Kamikaze attack.

Aerial view of the USS Randolph showing the holein the flight deck from the Kamikaze hit.That's where my dad was sixty-seven years ago today.I wish he'd told us more.

Saturday, March 03, 2012

spending too much timetrying to make sensewhen there doesn't seem to bemuch sense to make.spending too much timeholding my breathwaiting for the answersturns me blue.too old to waste timeturning bluebeing dizzystaying confused.hurting.pretending my name isVincent or Emily or Ansel or Georgia or Marjorie Kis time better spent.I know none of thosenames are mine. AndI figured that outall by myself.

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My friends, you touch my heart, again.I don't know what will happen here or how often.If it bores you at times, let me know, make a requestor wait for the next post. Maybe you'll like that one better.If anyone thinks that on-line friendships are meaningless,well, they don't know shit.Tell them to talk to me, 'cause if there is something that Ido know... it's shit.